


Elysium

by ahoycastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:12:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahoycastiel/pseuds/ahoycastiel





	Elysium

A hundred thousand days of eternal torment and damnation had spread the threads of human soul so thin that only fibers remained, stretched out over the bare bones of desperate hope. The soul of Adam Milligan was a wisp of fading atrophy of loosely strung humanity, emaciated beyond all recognition and left to rot in the fields of punishment. Surely he should have perished by now, wiped out before the fires of Lucifer and the demons of this hell.

Sometimes, everything came to a grinding halt just when he was sure the remains of his soul would flicker and die out. The mind of Adam Milligan clung to little things in those times; his name, which was all his own, not even something he could share with his father or brothers; Michael, the archangel, pressing against his human form and distorting what it meant to be moral, twisting something inside of Adam until he wasn’t sure he really was Adam; how it felt to stand in the rain, to touch grass, to see his mother’s face. He was rebuilt.

When it wasn’t the very edges of memories he was clinging to, he was clinging to pain. Pain was anchoring. He could hold into pain. It burned hot on every nerve ending and everywhere in between, breaking off bits of soul and leaving them to smolder. 

Demons taunted him, lashing out and tearing the flesh of his soul with their tongues and cackling from the darkness beyond Adam’s reach. He couldn’t see them - he could feel where they were and feel the fear embedded in the cells of his existence. Always, always crying out, wanting, shrieking for more. More blood, more carnage, something else to sooth their unending hunger for hopelessness and fear. 

 

When he was rebuilt for what felt like the hundredth time, barely stitched, hardly fixed at all, it started again. He could never move from where he’d been left when the Archangel Michael fled, and with was like being reborn into this hell again. Fear choked him as the pain and sound started again. Screaming from the distance, a low keening that never ceased, and the laughter. He could never run away or cover his ears from the Goddamn laughter. 

The screaming was now deafening, and he knew it was his own soul crying out for mercy.

Darkness closed in again as something worse than pain and panic grasped him. His trembling grew as he held on to every flare of slicing soul, every scent of rotting bone, in a constant last-ditch effort to stay alive - or, rather, as alive as one could be in Hell. That flare of humanity, the fight in him to live, wouldn’t be fought down by his own will.  
He could always count on these fields to remain the same. So, when a sound he didn’t know of tickled his senses, he was shocked for a moment and then, terrified. What else could this place possibly have to throw at him? Were they holding back? Jesus Christ, let them be done. Let it stop.

The noise steadily grew, a humming over the distance, and the screams were dulled by it until the demons Adam could feel were the ones who were the ones screeching and fleeing before the oncoming vibrations that reached to Adam’s core. He didn’t know what it was, but warmth spread through every part of him, filling him out and taking away his breath. How could it be so possible to breathe in a place like this?

And then, the light. It was a soft glow that enshrouded everything in pure white and gold. It was Adam could see and the feel of it flickered across his body - a touch that wasn’t bringing him pain, but comfort; his throat started to swell and the only sound that came out was a cry of joy before he couldn’t remember anything except that he was Adam Milligan.

 

A blinding flash brought it all back in waves. Adam choked, the physical feel of something stuck in his throat bringing him to his knees. Grass. It ticked the palms of his hand as he thrust it out to catch himself while the other jumped to his throat, feeling for lacerations, anything that demons would find amusing. But when he felt nothing of demons, he… God, help him… He opened his eyes and looked. 

It was grass he was kneeling in. There was dirt under his knees and palm, collecting under his nails and in his jeans. He was wearing jeans - the blue denim brushed against his legs in a pleasant way. When he moved his hand down from his throat, he felt the softness of cotton under his fingertips. Sucking in air was suddenly no easier, but the relief that cascaded around him in thunderous waves was enough to sustain him.

The smell of sea salt was so different than burning flesh and it rose gently up to greet him like waves washed along the shore. If Adam had been breathing, it would have taken his breath away when he stood up to see where he even was.

Fields stretched ahead and outwards. Wind crept up the back of his neck and he twisted to see the seas churning behind him. In the distance, a veil of blackness hung over a mountainous island and the sight of it made his skin crawl.

“How long are you going to stand there and gawk?” Adam whipped around, almost enjoying the feel of grass whispering along his hands as he spun. A great urge to fall backwards and roll until he itched and smelled like the field gripped his stomach, but he restrained himself, mostly because the man watching him was already giving him a raised eyebrow. “You’re Adam, right? Because if I grabbed the wrong damn Winchester - “

And he suddenly found his voice, trying to find the anger to fuel it, but finding it oddly absent. “My name isn’t Winchester. It’s Milligan.” Again, he fumbled for the anger at being called Winchester. His brothers had left him, his father had been absent for twelve years of his life before showing up and trying to make up for it - but it wasn’t even there. Just a queer feeling of peace. The hazel eyes in front of him softened just a hair, but were quickly back to mischievous and teasing. “Who are you?”

“The name’s Gabriel. And you’re Adam. Just the chucklehead I was looking for.” He dropped a wink that made Adam start, but not terribly.

To save himself an awkward meeting by lapsing into silence, Adam turned, eyes towards the fields and the trees beyond, the soft sound of water rinsing away the last traces of fear and isolation that were stuck to his soul. He could feel it inside, still hiding, but raising up to expand across his chest. It was like the sights and smells were too good to be true, but it was unable to resist the appeal of them, and so was Adam himself.

He turned to eye Gabriel, standing there in a jacket and jeans, looking like he was at home. “Where is this place?” The grin that curled Gabriel’s mouth was a gentle hello, not carrying traces of his sly face and eyes - the smile was genuine and sunk into Adam slowly until he realized his own mouth was turning upward in response.

“Welcome to Elysium.”


End file.
